Tag: love

A Second Death and the Stories We Tell

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

Say their name. Honor their story. It’s not a reminder that they died. It’s a reminder that they lived.

David Kessler

I recently came across a video by a content creator explaining a Jewish tradition known as the second death. She described it as the moment when a person’s name is spoken for the last time. I found the idea both hopeful and heartbreaking — hopeful in that we can continue to honor our loved ones by speaking their names, and heartbreaking because the act itself reminds us that one day, our voices will also fade. In grief, it often feels like we have so little control. But here is something tangible — something we can do. We can keep their memory alive through words and stories.

This past week, I spoke to a group about the gift of storytelling. Storytelling allows us to share, connect, learn, empower — and, ultimately, to create legacy. I truly believe every one of us has a story worth telling. I closed my presentation by reminding the group that never before have we had so many tools to share those stories. Technology gives us endless ways to write, record, film, and connect. There’s an audience waiting to listen — people who will see themselves reflected in what we share. The only question is: who will you tell?

Since then, I’ve found myself thinking about the quiet ways my mom passed her own wisdom on to me. I wonder if she realized that’s what she was doing. When she and my dad became empty nesters, she used to talk about how cooking had changed for her. I’m in that phase now, and I finally understand. The refrigerator in my home is often bare. Gone are the days of weekly grocery trips with detailed menus planned out around school and extracurricular activities. Now, I consider my work schedule, energy level, and whether I even feel like cooking. I plan meals for when the kids are visiting and for whatever I happen to crave. That’s it.

She knew this before I did. And because she told me, I recognize it now — not as failure or disinterest, but as a natural rhythm of this new season of life. It’s a small but comforting reminder that she’s still teaching me, even years after her passing.

I catch myself saying it often: I remember my mom telling me about these days. And here they are. She’s not here, but I am guided by her stories.

Thanks, Mom.

Say their name.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.

Drinking Problem

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

One of the things I cherished most about my adult relationship with my mom was discovering new things about her—little surprises that have now become some of my favorite memories. That was especially true one weekend afternoon years ago when I was visiting Garden City with my daughter. We were in town for my grandmother’s milestone birthday, and on our way to celebrate, we all piled into the same car—my mom, my sister, my daughter, and me.

At the time, my daughter was a young teenager who loved being the car DJ. As soon as her phone connected, she had a playlist ready—full of songs that reminded her of GC, summer barbecues, the Fourth of July, and time with family. One of the songs on that playlist was “Drinking Problem” by Midland.

I hadn’t paid much attention to the song before. It was just a feel-good country tune. But my daughter adored it—she thought it sounded like fireworks and sunshine and being surrounded by people you love.

So there we were, cruising down the road, when she played it. To my total surprise, my mom started singing along—word for word! Before long, we were all belting it out together. My mom told us my dad’s band played that song and that she loved it. She’d listen to it on her way to work or home, and it always put her in a good mood.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of her passing. And that song? It’s still on several of our family playlists. We all know the words now. Every time I hear it, I’m taken back to that moment in the car—singing, laughing, discovering yet another part of my mom I didn’t know before. It still amazes me that someone who hardly ever drank considered “Drinking Problem” one of her favorite songs!

Right now, I’m sitting outside, gathering my thoughts on this day. And I can’t tell you how many times over the last week I’ve walked through “thin places”—those spaces where it feels like heaven and earth touch. Every one of them reminds me of her.

For the past 48 hours, it feels like everything has pointed to my mom. And wouldn’t you know, just as I was enjoying the peace of the afternoon, a car drove by—windows down, music blaring. And what were they playing?

“Drinking Problem.”

Everyone in the car was singing.

Thank you, Mom, for meeting me in all the thin places these past few days. If you have a minute, listen to the song for her…and for us. We miss you.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.

A Letter to Mom

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

“To write is human, to receive a letter: Divine!”

– Susan Lendroth

Leaving home at 18 meant writing letters to your loved ones. I mean, it was the 1900s after all! I wish I had understood then what a gift this was. In various boxes and drawers, I have the remnants of these exchanges between me and my Mom. Most of them would likely be categorized as an unremarkable read, yet I am struck by the moment in time that they capture. Several of our exchanges are simply a rundown of life, both the highs and lows, and especially the mundane. We talk about school, work, travel, upcoming events, and what we had for dinner.

This week will mark the fifth year without Mom. While searching for a graduation card, I came across one of her letters to me while I was living in California. Seeing her handwriting and rereading the letter, I was immediately reminded of how much she has missed out on in just this month alone. I am uncertain of how heaven works, but I would hope that it would be so wonderful that she wouldn’t be caught up in the ordinariness of life on Earth. So I thought I would write her a letter:

Hey Mom,

It’s already May—and what a busy month! The kids are so ready for summer. Casey just wrapped up her internship, and Sean’s capstone project is done. I can’t believe it’s time for graduation already! Rock Chalk! I was in Garden City this month for Ethan’s graduation party, too. Amanda asked me to edit a grad video for him…these things always make me cry. She chose such sweet songs for him and that just adds to the emotions. Amanda and Andrew did such a great job of creating a party scene in the backyard. You would have approved, especially since everything we know about backyard parties we learned from you! Dad made ribs, and of course, they were gone by the end of the night!

I created a few quick videos for Sean’s graduation, too, avoiding any sad songs (I can only take so much!) We were happy to have Dad, Cliff and Colbee travel to Lawrence to share in the celebration. Casey got off to the airport that afternoon and she is in Croatia this weekend, then back to Italy. I still can’t wrap my head around all of it! Plans are underway for Paris, too! I told her I wanted a postcard of Pope Leo. Fingers crossed that she remembers.

I am distracting myself with work. I have yet to get on the hammock, but it’s on my list. We will probably grill on Memorial Day.

You are missed tremendously—I could never begin to tell you how much.…

Love, Anna

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.

When Mother’s Day is Heavy

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

You never get over losing your mother, you miss her for the rest of your days.

There’s a heaviness to Mother’s Day. What is meant to be a day of appreciation often comes with expectations and emotion — both good and bad. For those of us who are without our mothers, Mother’s Day looms larger than ever. I can feel the anchor drop the second I turn over the calendar.

I don’t know how to act…especially when I still feel so numb. I would imagine this doesn’t make me much fun to be around. The holiday used to mean that I didn’t have to cook (silly, but a big deal to me)! Mother’s Day was handmade cards and cookouts. It was flowers at church. It was the exchange of joyous texts. It was a phone call with my Mom where we both celebrated each other.

To make things worse, I feel guilty for feeling like this. It doesn’t honor my Mother’s memory to be sad on what is supposed to be a day of celebration. It’s not fair to my kids to have to try to cheer me up on “my day.”

There’s no shortcut here. It’s been two years and it still feels just as bad. Self-care gurus tell you that it’s ok to have all the feelings. Good advice since I can’t seem to stop them.

It’s been said a million times, so I’ll join the chorus — love your mother while you can.

Hold tightly to what is good. Romans 12:9

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.

Cleaning Beans

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

I made beans this week. I’m not sure what sparked this “event” as I am the only person in my house that likes beans. I’m also referring to this as an “event” because I’m pretty certain I haven’t made beans in a year…maybe longer.

The whole process is somewhat nostalgic. My childhood was filled with memories of making beans. It was actually a regular chore in the summer. My Mom would write it on the daily to-do list alongside vacuuming and dusting. I can still see the list…her handwriting on the backside of an envelope.

As I live with grief, I’ve been searching for answers to help the process. Mostly, I’ve been disappointed. Nothing really helps. The one thing that seems to bring some peace is the idea of doing things that remind you of the people you’ve loved and lost. While it’s not painless, there’s honor in keeping a loved one’s memory alive in this way. So as I sort the beans, rinse and season, boil and then simmer (all through a few tears and sniffles), I feel connected.

Connection feels better than loss.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.

Missing Mom

Published on by Anna Ortiz SpencerLeave a comment

When you’re sick, you want your Mom. I know I do. Never mind that I’m in my forties, left home at 18, live hours away, and have a family of my own. There’s something about a mother’s presence that puts your soul at ease. I know that if she could have been here with me, she would have. While I was sick, I imagined her calling and texting me to make sure I was drinking enough water (using her straw trick), staying in touch with my doctor, and offering prayers and encouragement.

As desperately as I wanted my Mom when I was sick, I know that she also wanted her Mom when she was sick, too. This fact breaks my heart. Thinking of her in the hospital, all alone…I’ll never get over it. Never.

My beloved grandmother (her mother) passed away while I was sick. I didn’t get to go to the funeral. Another heartbreak and once again I feel like there’s so little closure and there’s barely been a moment to grieve.

My body is healing now. I try to cheer myself up thinking about them reunited, a mother and her daughter. It makes me cry…both happy and sad tears. The two most important women in my life are gone, but together.

I don’t know exactly how this heaven thing works which probably sounds strange coming from a Christian, but I have faith that God makes things right…somehow…as only He can.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.